


in here with me

by wokeupscully



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Car Sex, M/M, PWP, Pfieffreau, WH era, but with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 06:12:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14970791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wokeupscully/pseuds/wokeupscully
Summary: “Oh my god,” he breathes, and Jon lifts his hips into the broad hand still covering his cock like he'd thought about earlier and it feels better than he’d imagined it would. Moaning, he does it again, rutting upwards to chase the friction of it.“Hush,” Dan whispers right against his ear. “The driver will hear you.”





	in here with me

**Author's Note:**

> come on and slam and welcome to the dan. it's dan week, y'all.

Being a part of the presidential motorcade is something that Jon will likely never get used to. It's surreal every time, the almost ceremonial quality of it, being escorted about town in a dark fancy car. Lights blur by the windows on the way to a gala - Jon knows what the function is, definitely, or at least he  _ knew _ \- but he's currently unable to pinpoint where they're going. 

If all else fails, when Obama starts speaking, then Jon will know. He'll remember what he wrote those words for and what the event is. That's becoming more common these days - Jon showing up where he's told to and being so buried in work he only knows which event is which by the speech the President gives. 

He leans back against his seat with a sigh, letting his eyes slip shut for a second. 

“Tired?” A low voice rumbles next to his ear and Jon opens his eyes only a crack to see Dan looking over at him with a smile, leaning ever so slightly into his space. Even now, even after they've been doing this for a few months, Jon feels his mouth dry out at the possibility of it, of the promise of Dan close to him. 

He must see the effect he's having because something behind Dan’s expression shifts, a hint of an eyebrow being raised. 

“Very tired,” Jon admits and he is. Tired enough to have lost track of where he's going tonight, tired enough to have downed a second diet energy drink at three in the afternoon even though he knows it'll fuck up his sleep schedule even worse than it already is. 

Tired enough that he's thinking about the look on Dan’s face, thinking about the surprise that would register across his expression if he reached out and touched him, if Jon let his hands trail up his thighs like he wants, if he let his mouth sink down around him like he wants. 

He's in the Presidential Motorcade. Fuck. And Dan looks very good in his suit. 

Dan leans in closer and Jon bites his lip.

One of Dan’s hands is on his thigh and Jon stares down at it, at his long fingers against the blue suit fabric and he has to take a deep breath thinking about what he knows those fingers can do. 

They don't - they don't do this. Not in public, definitely not at work. Theirs isn't a relationship where they go out and hold hands and smile at each other in the White House. Jon hasn't discussed it with Dan, but it's unspoken that this - whatever it is - is only for them. 

Jon's not sure if he's imagining it but he thinks maybe Dan’s hand is a few centimeters higher than it was before. Maybe he's just moved his pinky? Either way, Jon swallows and looks back up at Dan to see an intent expression on his face, mixed with the fond amusement that he only shows him in these moments alone. 

“Tomorrow, we should review the edits that the fact checking office sent over,” and Jon thinks that he really shouldn't be at all aroused by a sentence that references the fact checking office - he really, really hates those guys, they've never heard of a fucking hyperbole in their lives - but Dan’s voice is low and his lips brushed against his ear when he said it and his hand is higher on Jon’s thigh than it was before, he's sure of it this time. “What are you willing to bet that they took umbrage to you saying that America is the greatest nation in the world?” 

“Not fair, Pfeiffer,” Jon shakes his head, “you know they will.” 

Dan laughs and crinkles form around his eyes and Jon wants to kiss them, wants to kiss him. “It would be nice, just once, to get really metaphorical so that we could watch them get in a twist trying to look too closely at it.” 

“Or,” Jon says, “putting in the truth about people like Mitch McConnell and Paul Ryan. Calling them out for being craven, awful dicks. Watch the fact checking office try to come up with a rationale for why that's not the case.” Jon has maybe thought about this before, about how much he wants Obama to be able to say what he knows to be true and not have to worry about the optics of it. 

It'll never happen, he knows. But it would still be nice. 

Dan tuts at him scoldingly but there's nothing behind it. His hand slides another bit up Jon's thigh. 

“Obama wouldn't say it, even if it got through,” Dan says lightly and the heat from his palm is soaking into Jon’s thigh - too high up to be casual now but not so high as to be indecent. “He's too good.”

Jon tilts his head in acknowledgment of it. No matter his frustrations, Obama wouldn't. 

“He's going to make you change the wording in the E Block of your latest foreign policy speech, by the way.” Jon nods; he'd been expecting that, hadn't liked the way it had come out himself but wanted to send him something that had at least the right structure even if it wasn't quite where it should be. It didn't have the voice. 

“But,” Dan cuts Jon off before he can say that, “he liked the vision of it.” 

“Good, that's good,” Jon breathes, thinking about the edits he could make, different ways of framing talks with Cuba that don't seem as clunky and that also aren't him just shouting at Republicans that it's the right thing to do whether they like it or not. 

He shifts in his seat, tired just thinking about it, sliding down just a touch. Except it brings Dan’s hand further up his thigh and it curls tightly, keeping him in place. Quiet settles between them and Jon closes his eyes again, ever aware of Dan pressed against his side and his hand high up his thigh now - if he shifted a little, just a bit higher, Jon could press up into his touch. 

It's been a while since they've had the time and they technically don't have it now, on their way to whatever event this is. Jon's given up trying to remember. But this - Dan’s hand on his thigh at work, touching him when they aren't in one of their apartments, whispering low in his ear even when they're discussing work - is new. 

And Jon can feel his heart in his throat. He doesn't know what it means, doesn't know if Dan is overthinking this contact the way that Jon is. But the way that Dan’s hand sometimes seems to twitch slightly makes Jon think that he probably is. This is a declaration of something, surely. 

Worrying his lip between his teeth, Jon opens his eyes again, looks over at Dan to see him staring at him, watching him closely. With a breathy exhale, Jon laces his fingers in with Dan’s, moves them to where he's half-hard in his suit. 

“Driver,” Dan calls, eyes not wavering from Jon for a second, “close the partition.” 

A whimper leaves Jon at that and he'd be embarrassed by it if it didn't send heat rushing into Dan’s eyes. The click of the divider setting into place rings loud in the space between them and then Dan is shifting his body, turning in the space he has in the car to end up straddling Jon's thigh. 

“Oh my god,” he breathes, and Jon lifts his hips into the broad hand still covering his cock like he'd thought about earlier and it feels better than he’d imagined it would. Moaning, he does it again, rutting upwards to chase the friction of it. 

“Hush,” Dan whispers right against his ear. “The driver will hear you.” 

The issue with that is the thrill it sends down Jon's spine makes him gasp, his hips bucking up again. “Fuck,” he groans, trying to fumble at his zipper but Dan’s hand is blocking the way. 

“I’ve got you,” Dan whispers, quietly undoing Jon’s fly but the care he took to pull his zipper down without the obvious noise of it is ruined by the moan that leaves Jon when he takes his cock out. 

“Are you going to be able to be quiet?” Dan’s voice is kind, curious. Jon bites his lip, thinks it through. 

“No,” he admits honestly and has his breath taken away when Dan kisses him sweetly before placing a hand over his mouth, muffling the noises to come. 

Jon had pictured the way Dan’s hands - big and strong and soft - would feel on his cock long before they got together but he never feels prepared for the reality of it. For the sure, steady strokes and the just right tightness of his grip. It's perfect, even when the angle is slightly awkward because of the lack of space. 

“Oh, babe,” Dan whispers, “you're not going to last long at all, are you?” 

Jon doesn’t bother trying to speak, not with Dan’s hand over his mouth, so he just looks up at him and shakes his head. Tries to convey without words that he’s already very much worked up, that he can’t hold himself back. Not tonight.

Smugness is clear in the huff of laughter Dan gives at that. “So easy for it,” he teases and Jon’s hips jerk forward, proving him true. “Look at you, Jon, so easy for me that you’re letting me take you apart here. If I took my hand away, that driver would know exactly how desperate you are.” 

Dan wouldn’t - he wouldn’t - and Jon knows that but, fuck, the thought of it is good and he nods. Pleading with his eyes, Jon lifts his hips again, needing to come. 

Only Dan’s hand over his mouth stops Jon’s cry when he abruptly pulls back instead. “Hush, babe, don’t worry.” Jon easily moves as Dan repositions them, sideways in the backseat now, Jon’s back against the car door.

“What is this -” Jon doesn’t finish the question before Dan covers his mouth with his hand again before ducking his head down to sink his mouth around Jon’s cock. The perfect, wet heat doesn’t last for more than a second before he pulls back up again, whispers, “Don’t look at  _ me _ , babe. Turn your head to the side.” 

Jon does, sees the lights of the city moving past in a blur created by the movement of the car and the arousal clouding his mind. “Look,” Dan insists again. “People are watching the car go by, aren’t they? And you’re in here, getting your dick sucked.”   
  
Now that Dan’s said it, Jon notices that yeah, there are people looking. They always do, when the motorcade goes by. It’s always a bit of a spectacle. Dan’s mouth sinks back down around him and Jon is still looking out at the people who can’t see in, who can’t know that this is happening. 

His cry gets muffled by Dan’s hand and he spills into his throat and Jon thinks that maybe he whites out for a minute because by the time he’s aware of what’s going on again, he’s been tucked back into his pants. The smirk on Dan’s face also make it pretty clear that Jon looks wrecked from that. 

He turns gracelessly toward Dan, movements still uncoordinated. “Let me,” he whispers, breathless, “let me.”

“We’re almost there,” Dan informs him, not sounding upset by that, by the fact that Jon can’t bring him off here, too. He grabs Jon’s hand from where they’ve stilled on his chest, brings one up to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

It’s - intimate. Dan just had his mouth on his dick but this feels - this feels like a much larger declaration of something than that. 

“Yeah,” Jon says, not sure exactly what it is he’s agreeing to but needing to say something, to acknowledge what’s happening between them. “Yeah.” 

The car slows to a stop and Dan is beaming as he says, “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm tvietor08 on tumblr, come find me there


End file.
